Varsity Reunion
by Night Strider
Summary: REPOSTED. Ten years later, Rukawa looks like a happily married man and Mitsui a tamed wealthy bachelor, both separately enjoying their lives. But something in the past holds them together, still. MitRuMit. COMPLETE.
1. Prologue

Varsity Reunion

Disclaimer: I don't own Slam Dunk.

Summary: Ten years later, Rukawa looks like a happily married man and Mitsui a tamed wealthy gentleman, both separately enjoying their lives. But something in the past holds them together, still. MitRuMit. On going.

A/N: By the way, this is very mushy and retarded. And it's not very well-written, nor is the wordplay constructive and artful. I have to grant it that. But if there's one thing to redeem this, I suppose, it would have to be its length. It's quite long, you know. Bear with me.

**Prologue**

For Rukawa Kaede, victory is at hand. For so long as he stayed with Shohoku, the latter was safe from degrading losses, critics and defamation in general.

For Mitsui Hisashi, on the other hand, life had already passed him by, taking away all the good things in his youth to hide them somewhere he could never find. If he would be permitted a single metaphor, he'd most probably say: It was like a whirlpool that swept everything I believed in on their feet. He supposed his life was over, which made sense if you take into account his accomplishments, or lack thereof. No college with a basketball team to speak of made him offers. It was like he needed first to declare to the world that he existed before one person took notice of him. At that instant, he decided that his talents, whatever they might prove to be, were a colossal bluff, an oasis which made him rely on something that he could never make come true. Being a star, of course, should be left to people like Akagi, Sakuragi, Rukawa...especially Rukawa, who was bound for a great journey as an international athlete. Mitsui didn't want to see that happen, to be fixated in that spot for good; he didn't need to because they were all in his mind anyway.

So he submitted his resignation in the last term of his third and final year. His team accepted it gracefully, even with some kind of honor only due to members of the hall of fame. They gave him a standing ovation, then a spate of tears followed, which only made Mitsui feel even sorrier for them. He walked out of the gym then, not knowing the weight of the heavy heart he bore, nor the expanse of the void he left behind.

On his graduation day, eerily, the sky assumed a darker shade of gray. It seemed that all around him, from the stones on the ground to the floating celestial bodies in the sky, were willing to grieve for him for the years coming. It was just an illusion, typical. No one grieved that much, at least not enough to drop on his feet and beg him to stay. He would just be another year that passed Shohoku by, fading from its face all the way down to its history, slated to retain its place there in endless oblivion. If, by accident, someone of the younger generation asked who the scarfaced guy in number fourteen was, no one would've been able to give a readily-made, less than vague answer. For in truth, nobody knew who the real Mitsui Hisashi was. Nobody remotely knew what he went through all those wild years.

He resignedly traipsed away from the ceremony a little before it had ended and his batch mates had bidden each other farewell. He doffed off his toga, flipped his hat away and folded his diploma inside his suit. Tucked with provisions to face a brazen new world, he fought his way out. In that moment in time, the heavens didn't seem any emptier for years afterwards. As he was about to take his last steps on the vicinity, and when he least expected it, there at the exit gate was Rukawa. His face was all set in graveness; it was reposeful and quiet. And yet, something in those eyes contained a kind of defiant violence, which, to Mitsui, could not be translated into some plain anger any more than a cat can learn how to swim on its own accord. Rukawa's look was intense with sympathy. But more significantly, he looked pained beyond repair. Mitsui was quick to overlook this, or rather, he wanted to forget that disheartened expression on Rukawa's face the moment he took his last look at his alma mater, where, as he was sure Rukawa knew, countless memories were locked and fated to haunt the idle hours.

But Rukawa spoke and as he did, it seemed as though Mitsui's heart would break in shattered, microscopic pieces.

"You're going away, sempai."

"There's nothing for me to stay for. This place threw me out a long time ago." Mitsui muttered, staring down at his feet as though the soil he was toeing would provide rationality for his succeeding actions.

"It doesn't have to be like this." As Rukawa said this, he just knew Mitsui would never come back.

Mitsui only grinned in response. Though he was aware that he was ruining not only his own heart in deciding it, he kept a straight face on, countering doubts with such blowing potency that no one could have interpreted his meaning other than a fierce and hardly false resolution. To Rukawa's credit, he didn't discourage the senior, let alone stop him. He chose, in this, to destroy that link along with Mitsui's disappearance. He chose to hurt himself, if only that would make him feel a tenth of what Mitsui had gone through. He then absorbed the senior with his eyes. His was the only number he dared dial on the occasion of emotional crises, breakdowns and the like. His was the only smile he yearned to picture over and over again. His was the only affection he was willing to receive and received it with gratitude, he did without failing. And when Mitsui had gone, his was the only heart that was going to break. He knew it, no more, no less.

Mitsui moved away, refused to say another word and left Rukawa to muse after his shadow. He was gone from sight the moment the rain, far too much in quantity, came whooshing down on the whole Kanagawa. It darkened quickly, as if a thick tuff of cloud blocked the sun, making everything else black for a period of time. Soon, the wind began howling, mourning it seemed, and the trees swayed on their trunks. Man-sized puddles began stretching out on the ground, as if to sunbathe under the inclemently weathered skies. Hence making the scene more like a funeral than a graduation celebration. The irony could almost be tasted in the rain, which glided on and on. It was almost funny that Rukawa was sure he could shed more tears than the rain poured that day, if only he had given himself the chance to allow it.

He never saw him again.

Until...

TBC

A/N: Fucking corny. Come on; I wanna hear you say it. The idea has been rife in me for over a million years. During those times I just didn't have the heart to put this to words and yeah, talentless as I am, I think it would be a waste not to write about it. Tonight, in between typing an entry for my blog, the words just found me. I don't know how else to put it; for all I know there was the sense of urgency. Should I push through? Thanks for reading.


	2. Chapter I

Varsity Reunion

Disclaimer: I don't own Slam Dunk.

**Chapter I**

Just like that, Rukawa Kaede decided that America was the dream he never really wanted to have. It was a sheet draped over his real dream, a kind of mask that hid the more exquisite, alive thing underneath. He didn't need America, really. What he needed was to hold on to where he came from, to never forget his roots and the memories that tagged along with it. Thus did he dismiss the opportunity of his lifetime in exchange for sentimental values, exiting from the long-suffering ambition that he knew would see no fulfillment. Having done that, he started sending rejection notes to the big fry universities that insistently bugged him to enroll in their schools; instead, he signed up for a state university three miles south of Kanagawa. Like many things in his life, the origin of this choice remained a mystery. But to cap it partly, he loved the climate down there, which was close to icy. On several occasions he would sit on the porch of his dormitory room, glaring at the skies for hours on end until his room mate would remind him that he would have to need to warm down, lest he died of pneumonia.

Without difficulty, in his first year in college, he entered the basketball club while surviving a less-than-casual relationship with his team mates. His game shifted dramatically depending on how one preferred to view it. He had by then seemingly mellowed down on hard wood, playing only when necessary and shooting perimeter shots when circumstances started to squeeze tight around his team mates. Off court, his otherwise hard-to-ignore actions were under duress. He was always filled with thoughts nobody else succeeded in guessing as those around him started to brand him as that person "who kept to himself". Nonetheless, he was a star and his fangirls never diminished but in turn only increased by multitudes. As he left college for a career in basketball, another deluge of professional league offers came down to his doorstep. It was expected by everyone who knew him that he'd choose a decent team for himself. They were wrong once again; Rukawa repeated the same mistake and joined the Kanagawa Hurricanes, a national basketball team that always caught itself wallowing at the bottom of the standings. It never made an impression on the spectators until Rukawa came to the lot and with the similar idolatrous worship his high school fans lavished on him, the people of Kanagawa began celebrating the fact that they were too blessed to have someone like Rukawa.

He played the shooting forward position and let us add, with epic finesse. At twenty, he was exactly at the league's forefront and was fast becoming a game savior. But above everything he was the center of attraction whose presence was clamorously demanded by crowds and crowds of supporters. At twenty-one he was a candidate for the Most Valuable Player of the Year award among other things. He lost in that ballot race by less than ten votes to his ancient rival, Sawakita Eiji, which the media underscored by releasing articles that strongly implied he should start thinking of transferring to another, more able squad. Even as a free agent, in his twenty-second year, Rukawa held fast to Kanagawa Hurricanes. Nobody quite understood what possessed him to sign his name on that three-year contract. It was a trap of course, a hindrance to his development and excellence where basketball goals were concerned, and they could only keep on wondering what Rukawa's reasons were for voluntarily welcoming his ruin. More attention was given to the rumors that the Kanagawa team could hardly offer half of what other states had offered Rukawa. It wasn't until months later when the gossips died down, gradually, and the people accepted the fact that Rukawa's salary and the little justice his team did him were scarcely a business of theirs. Their guess was, as was anybody's, that Kanagawa was something very dear to Rukawa and its soil sacred.

Within the passage of years, seasons after seasons, Rukawa would strafe by Shohoku. Its new students would marvel at him, recalling his blank face on that team picture enshrined inside the Shohoku Basketball Gym. He still looked young and the same except for a few inches' addition in height. His hair hardly underwent changes as was evidenced by those perpetually unkempt bundles of strands that soared in each direction, thus the raven-hair title it earned for itself. His build was as defined as ever and his face empty, if not emptier. If one looked deeper and closer, he'd have noticed that grave, profound and somewhat melancholy expression that lingered obstinately in his eyes. It was like he was yearning for something that departed the place some centuries before, like no amount of miracle would overturn the situation and bring back whatever it was he was painfully longing for. But he continued longing nonetheless and would stop at nothing until his hurt out-sized himself and made him realize how much he had lost over the years despite his enormous worldly gains. While every other person in Kanagawa would've given everything to swap turfs with him; they didn't know that deep down, Rukawa felt like he had been dead for years, particularly since that wet, wind-ridden afternoon.

One day, as if somebody just pulled hard at his leash, he finally gave in to the urge to get inside his old alma mater. Instinctively, as was his habit to yawn during class hours and to upset his teachers, he led himself to the gym which, thanks to Shohoku alumni's generous donations, including Rukawa's, had been renovated often enough to lend it a stylish, modern-based look. Doubtless it was an expensive building. He stepped inside after removing his shoes. As the soles of his feet touched the floor, he failed to recognize the familiar sensation he frequently felt during those times when Ayako would order the freshmen around to mop it again and again until it gave off a ridiculous yellow shine. He felt upset and yet, how irrational was it to be upset? He was expecting to feel the same thing he felt eight years ago when there was a pervading homeliness inside that stadium. Now, there was only a domineering sense of alienation as if the very floor would spit him out anytime. Of course, it was no longer the wooden floor that he used to polish, painstakingly, every day. There was no point in seeking to feel at home with it any longer.

It took a few moments before he could come to himself. The people inside, the current Shohoku team members who all ranged from fifteen to eighteen years of age, didn't bother to swipe away the bedazzled expression on their faces. One or two had dropped their jaws as an applause commenced, slow and faltering at first and earnest at last. It had been so long ago since someone so popular announced his presence in that place. It was Rukawa Kaede, the superstar of the decade, coming back to check on his old school. He nodded and declined pleasantly to make an impromptu speech; but so as not to disappoint the kids, he told them that dreams do come true. He didn't mention that his didn't. Or at least, he didn't find ultimate joy during the course of his professional career.

He then circled around the court, once in a while raising his eyes to the bulletin boards on the furnished wall. At one point, as if in an utterly amazing coincidence, his eyes rested on a group shot. He recognized himself immediately and almost simultaneously, he remembered exactly when the shot was taken. It was right after the game against Sannoh, seven years ago. He was a freshman and so were Sakuragi and a few others. The first line-up was stationed up front where they would have to kneel on the floor while the makeshifts stood not far behind. The proud smile on their countenances was priceless and reflected, even, what each team member felt about one another. There was a great trust between them, so obvious at first sight that it made Rukawa's heart go weak. How come they couldn't stay that way for all eternity? Why choose to part from something so inexplicably beautiful? He continued staring at the picture, careful not to miss anything in his observation. His eyes traveled from left to right, naming each player along the way. Akagi was gone, Miyagi was gone, Sakuragi was gone and Mitsui was no more. For all Rukawa knew, unbelievable as it was, Mitsui had long ago killed himself. And yet, why was everything so mixed up? How come Mitsui had so little to say when he left and why was he strangely clutching his diploma so hard? Surely, suicidal maniacs don't just hold on to their high school diploma as though they were clinging for life? Rukawa's throat tightened and an impulse to swat his head for such horrid thought enlarged itself inside him. He had no right to think about Mitsui that way, not when he knew he'd have done anything in his feeble power to get him back. He then left the place, hankering for something else to occupy his mind with.

Shortly after that incident, he met a journalist named Kira Umino. She was twenty-two, pretty, accomplished, smart and knew how to pull at anyone's heartstrings. Rukawa was no less fascinated by her than the rest of the country. She was a celebrity, a powerful entity in the media chamber at such a young age. When she did an article about Rukawa, the latter noticed that there was something magical about her, something he was willing to have for any price. He kept quiet about his feelings until one day she asked him out. She said it was high time they went out. Yes, he replied. It was high time he took advantage of his good looks and status. They clicked in an instant and things didn't just stop at courting; they got better and better as time matured. After two years of dating and professing their love to one another, they got married in a little church somewhere in Kanagawa. To be married in Kanagawa was Rukawa's request; he wanted the simplicity the city offered and the peaceful reception of the public. Nobody dared oppose the match; it was perfect and was assured to end happily ever after, if it would end at all. In a few months, Rukawa decided to take off from Kanagawa, finally, and to throw away the bitter regions of his past to make way for a wonderfully constructed conjugal life. It was a nice bargain, after all.

The couple took residence in Osaka, a high end city fitted for their fame. Rukawa signed for the Osaka Cagers and took things from there. At twenty-five, he was considered the best player in Japan and won the MVP award for the national league. At twenty-six, he was running for the same honor twice in a row. His wife was as supportive as any wife could be; she was devoted, loving, responsible... nobody would've risked throwing cynical comments on Rukawa's nearly uxorious attitude toward the wife. They were happy and that was all that mattered. In fact, he had never been happier all his life.

That is, until an interruption took in the form of a phone call. It was Kiminobu Kogure. After exchanging long and seemingly deathless how do you do's, Kogure got around to informing Rukawa of the upcoming Shohoku Basketball Team Grand Reunion. The party would boast of a perfect attendance. Yes, a perfect attendance, down to the last bench warmer of the batch. It would be held at the Kanagawa Golf Club near the Prefecture's Bay. It would be held five days hence.

"Don't forget to bring your beautiful wife, Rukawa."

"I won't, Kogure-sempai." Rukawa replied. Of course, he didn't expect his marriage to come unnoticed.

TBC


	3. Chapter II

Varsity Reunion

Disclaimer: I don't own Slam Dunk, period.

**Chapter II**

It was the kind of party he had gone through almost every single week of his life in Venice. Cocktails, soft candle light, majestic ballroom floors, high ceilings and people in their best suits. It was only seven-thirty in the evening but the night was rife with the coolness of winter's midnight. Cleanly shaven, Mitsui Hisashi careened across the room, fashionably donned in his Armani suit. He wasn't wearing a tie; instead, his tan polo top was partly unbuttoned and revealed a small V-shaped portion of his chest. His hair retained the same rough texture and color, and apart from his slightly darkened complexion he was the same as before. He was, all in all, extremely refined-looking. But more than anything, his smile lingered, as if flashing from the past to recall the good old times he'd had.

"Mitsui!" hailed a voice from beyond the clumped-together round tables and chairs around him. Mitsui's eyes surveyed the mob in an effort to locate the caller. In the middle of the room, just right under the ostensible chandelier, was the ever so retentive Sakuragi Hanamichi, waving animatedly at him. Mitsui immediately proceeded to Sakuragi's direction.

"Sakuragi, you're a man! And look! You got rid of that silly hair color. No longer rough around the edges, are we?" Mitsui exclaimed nearly at the top of his lungs. Seeing Sakuragi sans the immature red hair was indeed something to look forward to.

"What do you mean by that? Come, sit down. You'd need a lot of explaining to do. I'm glad I got by you first, Christ! I was ready to believe you'd kicked the bucket." Sakuragi said, barely stopping to give way to punctuations. Mitsui took a seat beside him.

"Kicked the bucket? I'm more alive than ever, Sakuragi. Why not tell me something about you?" Mitsui grinned. He always had this soft spot for old acquaintance. Sakuragi was no exception to this.

"About me? There's plenty to tell but it would just be a waste of spit if you're the only one who's going to listen to me. I'm going to wait for Mega--I mean Kogure and the others to arrive first , then you can all feast your ears on my success stories. So...what happened to you? By the looks of it, you must be _someone_. It's been donkey years and I've never heard a single word from you. Even Miyagi doesn't know where you've been."

"I've been in Italy for six years, moonlighting in the foreign scene." Mitsui stated nonchalantly, as if he was uninterested in whatever information he could share about himself.

"Italy? Of all paces to choose to be a misfit in, you chose Italy? Why?"

"Well, it seemed that business was good there. And it was, still is. So I settled there, living a dolce vita in my little villa. Well, it isn't little; it's actually on the huge side. Anyway, I'm loaded if that's what you want to know."

"Mmmh. Business, you say. You didn't pursue your basketball career? Did you even go to college?"

"Yeah, of course. Prior to Italy, I flew to Washington where I majored in Business Administration at Georgetown University. And speaking of Georgetown, its college basketball team is smashing. Those kids made me believe people could fly without wings---"

"So in short, you attended a private university in the States." Sakuragi said, rubbing his jaw. As far as he knew, that's not what it was cracked up to be. He couldn't put a finger on what he just heard, not when Mitsui was the subject of conversation. "Let's see, I can't quite help spotting some loopholes here. First, you left without a single word, you didn't even say where you were going so every one of us right away assumed that you drowned yourself the next day. Second, I find it so hard to believe that you would be enticed by the very idea of graduating with a degree. Third, you abandoned basketball entirely which is completely unthinkable. And last, whoever funded your education? Sounds like you dug gold here. Did any of your rich relatives die?"

Mitsui stared at Sakuragi, half-frowning, half-smiling. "First of all, I have reasons for leaving, most of which you don't wanna know, believe me. So let's just leave it at 'I'm tired of this country'; having said that, I never for once had any intention to commit suicide. Second off, as incredible as it sounds, I did have a hidden passion for learning. When I was at the university, I felt quite prepared to excel and live off what I learned after that, which proved to be achievable anyway. Hence my life today and my exorbitantly large bank accounts. Third, I hate to say this but yes, I chose something else over basketball and there's not much to do about it because I'm happier than I ever was in a game. But, may I emphasize, I still play from time to time. In fact I have a personal basketball court _inside _my mansion. Lastly, your guess just about hit home; a rich uncle indeed died and I got to share a little of his inheritance. After that, I've been offered various jobs overseas. I landed one in Italy, got to set myself straight and things continued from there. Success has been very friendly to me, Sakuragi."

Sakuragi gaped at Mistui, as if Mitsui just transformed into a lunatic stranger right in front of his very eyes. "Jesus. I never would've guessed; you sure made a splash, doing that. Anyway, do you mean...?"

"What?"

Sakuragi held Mitsui in his gaze a little longer before he regained his composure and ventured to speak. "Well, if that's the truth, I see no reason why you shouldn't be satisfied. Are you married?"

"No."

"No? But why? How come you strut around like you're some kind of big shot and yet, don't have a special someone?"

"I'm so sorry; I don't think I get your drift."

"I meant you should've at least got hitched with all your success. Surely, you're not alone most of the time? Life isn't complete without a woman, Mitchy. "

"That depends, Sakuragi." Mitsui paused. "I didn't live a secluded life. I mean, not technically what with all these easy-come-easy-go women. The necessary evil and stuff. But I'm happy..."

Before he could finish, a queue of familiar individuals disrupted his phrase. Akagi, Kogure and some of the old crowd began infiltrating the room and perching themselves nearby to complete the promised perfect attendance. The atmosphere suddenly became tense and airy. Mitsui and Sakuragi hastily got up from their chairs to exchange greetings and hugs with their old friends. Almost everyone was in a tizzy, too incredulous to begin an interrogation as to Mitsui's whereabouts and activities all these years. In a heartbeat, anyone within reasonable distance could hear Sakuragi narrating a summary of his life. It appeared that he and Haruko were engaged and, if it was worth it to mention, Akagi didn't seem in the least disturbed by the news. If anything, he seemed sincerely happy for his sister. Akagi was married; Kogure had a steady girlfriend; Miyagi and Ayako were thinking about getting engaged. Everyone seemed to have more or less achieved their long-term goals in life; in other words, everyone, except Kogure who was a professor of World History at Tokyo University, was banking on his talents as a professional basketball player. Even Yasuda was a starter for a state team somewhere. Even Kuwata got that much running.

"Rukawa and his wife will arrive any time soon." Kogure looked at his watch.

"Rukawa?" Sakuragi said. "He's bringing his wife along?"

"Yes. She's a famed reporter, you know. I think we might all be interested."

"Interested in the fact that Rukawa actually nabbed himself a chick." Sakuragi corrected Kogure. "I always thought he was some kind of fag--"

"I'll go to the washroom." Mitsui declared.

"Okay. But don't stay there too long. I might blurt out some of your secrets while you're away." Sakuragi teased.

"What secrets?"

"Your life after Shohoku. They may find the fact that you're now a millionaire rather juicy and of course, your lavish donation to the Shohoku basketball gym isn't to be ignored."

"Well then, I'm more than obliged. It should save me some spit." Mitsui said and left his old team mates to ramble on about his personal life.

Less than ten minutes later, when he came back, his eyes instinctively strayed to Rukawa and his wife who were already seated among the circle. Upon seeing her, Mitsui's eyes widened a little bit, as was the reaction of anyone who'd first seen her. It was, independent of any shock, awe. She exuded the aura of a movie star. Her movements were agile and graceful, which suited very well the maroon short gown she was sporting. Her hair was elegantly pulled back on her forehead and when she spoke, it was like watching a 1950s romantic flick. It was her voice that won them all; clearly, she wasn't a much-loved anchorwoman for nothing. It wasn't after a quick spell and Rukawa's recognition of Mitsui that the latter decided to give his former lover a greeting.

"Hey Rukawa. Remember me?" Mitsui said, rather more awkward than he intended. It seemed as though he was telling himself to smile his heart out but instead only showed his deep tribulation. It had been ten years; he almost didn't know how to confront him now.

"Yes, Mitsui-sempai." Rukawa replied, not quite requiring the shortest time to compose himself. His tone was formal and stiff and his expression was opaque. _If he thinks that old smile-and-grin formula is going to work, he's gravely mistaken._

"Good, care to introduce her to me?" Mitsui grinned at Rukawa and pointed at his wife, who was apparently enjoying the scene.

Rukawa nodded, took a deep breath and pronounced, "Kira, this is Mitsui Hisashi. He was in the basketball team too. And...we haven't been in contact for ten years so..."

"That can wait. I'll tell you all about what happened to me while I've been away, Rukawa. But right now, let's call on the drinks." Mitsui winked at him, even as he used to do a decade ago. "Waiter!"

It threatened to be a long evening. As the night pushed on, the conversations became more profound, the group became more intoxicated. When the dance floor opened, Rukawa did a round of slow waltz with his wife. After which, he excused himself and disappeared to the terrace where he could savor the overlooking view in solitary silence. He didn't know what to feel himself. Mitsui seemed to be oblivious, he was sure, and would rather put the past behind him. He already closed that door, locked it and threw away the key. Perhaps, he didn't even remember how he and Rukawa used to be. But then, what was the need to remember? Rukawa was happy. Mitsui was certainly happy. If he brought the past up to Mitsui now, surely it would be jeopardizing his marriage, playing with fire? What did it matter if he wasn't over Mitsui yet, or vice versa? As far as anyone was concerned, that problem had been settled once and for all the moment Mitsui walked out on him and never came back. It should, at all costs, remain a mere skeleton in the cupboard. So much better off disregarded.

"I was looking for you." Rukawa heard Mitsui's voice behind him then. What now? He faced him, hoping to disguise his nervousness beneath the shadows. "Rukawa, it's--"

"Over." Rukawa caught himself murmuring the word right before he could push the brakes.

"Over?"

"It was over before you even knew it. You left me, you bastard." Rukawa huffed, more inclined toward rudeness than politeness.

Mitsui's eyes sparkled in the dark and it seemed as though he would choke. Perhaps he couldn't take it anymore; perhaps he didn't want the turn the conversation was taking; but for whatever it was, he withdrew his gaze from Rukawa and looked upward.

"Don't pretend to stargaze." Rukawa said then.

Mitsui, who nearly leaped up upon Rukawa's display of irritation, consequently steered his glance toward the latter. If he hadn't been so well-rounded on Rukawa's range of expression he would've seriously leaped up for the second time when he saw his fierce face. Until then he never considered the possibility that Rukawa would feel any kind of anger toward him. "You seem happy. You must really love her." Was all he could say.

"Very much. Don't change the subject, sempai."

"I'm not." Mitsui said and at length went quiet. He was lost for what to say or what to do in front of Rukawa. "I wish I could switch things back the way they were; you and I being friends and all."

"That's not going to happen." Rukawa replied tersely. _Since when were we **just** friends?_

Once again, silence returned. The evening felt like the North Pole outside, sending chills all over the place. The incoming wind gently whiffed against their faces and the sky was speckled with stars of various sizes and levels of brilliance. The moon seemed to be transparent, like Rukawa's words.

"Rukawa, when you got married, what was on your mind?"

"On my mind? I thought I was doing the right thing. I still think I did, in fact. What about you? Did you think you were doing the right thing? Boarding off just like that? Single-handedly messing everything up? "

Mitsui heaved a sigh. He never quite expected that he'd have to explain his side of the story. "No. There was some kind of error to that, I admit."

"Then why did you do it?" Rukawa snapped and seeing that Mitsui's expression was shifting, went on. "Don't grin at me like that. It's not going to work."

Mitsui aborted the smile. If he specialized in looking cute back then, it could hardly work its charm now on Rukawa. Growing more conscious that he was strapped for a crucial, well-made answer, he said, "It's one thing to leave you; it's quite another to leave Kanagawa. That's as much as I can tell you and myself right now." he stopped. "I'm so sorry, Rukawa. Can you just forget?"

"Forget? Don't you think it's a little too late for that? Do you really think that this is like basketball, that after the shot clock goes berserk the game's completely over? Why don't you just ask me next time to jump from the fucking Eiffel Tower and not die? Or don't tell me it's already at the tip of your tongue."

"But it's been a decade!" Mitsui, not to be outdone, gasped as a combination of slight fury and surprise romped on his face. "Rukawa, it isn't healthy to be this angry. You just said you love her and if you honestly do, you wouldn't let this bother you. Just say you forgive me and we're good, I swear to god."

"You think 'sorry' is going to make it, huh, sempai? If 'sorry' could solve anything at all this world would be full of scoundrels like you who think that they could get away with it any given time. Maybe you don't know, but you and my wife are completely distinct cases. My marrying her has nothing to do with you and whatever I feel toward you now has nothing to do with her. Pure and simple." Rukawa said. He looked as though he wanted to give Mitsui a hard shake so the latter could wake up.

"I understand." Mitsui said and yet, in truth, he was more confused than certain.

"You understand exactly nothing. You don't know anything. Maybe you should know that you killed me; maybe that's what you want to know now. You never visited me, or called me or even wrote to me. You just went on playing your little game, making yourself filthy rich abroad, abandoning all cares in the world. What kind of excuse do you have, please say?" Rukawa blared which caused Mitsui to stare uncomfortably at him; he didn't expect Rukawa to grow this talkative and vehement while he was gone. _Did he just sprout horns while no one was looking?_ How he prayed Rukawa would just clam up and stop acting as though he was shuttling back and forth between being sixteen and twenty-six.

"Well… you seem to have a lot to say to me. I just wish you would stop acting so affected."

"Ha! Don't make me laugh. Tell me, how else should I act after what you did and on second thoughts, didn't do?"

"You don't know what you're saying. I suffered too and at any rate, I suffered as much as, or even more than you did. And for that, you should at least condone me, if not for the rest."

"You must be dreaming, expecting that from me."

"You have her to fall back on. I had no one. I don't have anyone."

Rukawa smiled bitterly and in defense of his wife, said, "Don't sound like she's a poor substitute/surrogate for you, sempai; I'm not about to go easy on that."

"I'm not saying that. She's a good rebound, if I may say so." Mitsui stammered. He looked reluctant to go on, "But the point to tackle here is, at least you have somebody to neutralize whatever pain you got from me."

"That necessarily doesn't clear you of blame. You still wronged me, terribly."

Mitsui tapped his forehead as if to indicate how tired he was. He wanted to say that he didn't seek out Rukawa so as to exonerate himself; rather, he wanted him to recognize the fact that he was, in all sincerity, sorry. He stared at Rukawa and only received half-shaded frozen looks. _Boy, he sure is cathartic_. More was the irony to think that back then, ten years before, they weren't exactly overflowing with things to say to each other. Now, it looked like they'd have to spend a day just to have these words said. And yet, this wasn't the word-sparring he looked forward to having with Rukawa; as a matter of candid fact, this encounter more like resembled one of his nightmares. "What was she like to you when you first saw her?" he said at last in an attempt to loosen the tension.

"She was like an antidote to the poison you made me swallow. She revived me."

"Well, then, there shouldn't be a need to take it this far, should there?" Mitsui almost entreated. At this point, he could feel a migraine approaching.

"That's you; always taking the easy road out. I can't hold you blameless in this. You almost ruined my career. I stayed the most of my years in that bloody Kanagawa crap team. I didn't want to leave because---I don't know! Maybe I was thinking that you'd change your mind and come back one day? I was so stupid to ever rely on that hope. I should've been MVP at twenty but I wasn't; I should've been in the NBA but I wasn't likewise, all because of you."

"That's not fair, Rukawa."

"It's not fair, of course. You weren't fair."

"God, this is a terrible conversation. Rukawa, this isn't the reconciliation I wanted to have with you. Are you saying that it would've been better if we never got together at all?"

"Yes, sempai."

"Well, that would be a mean present to give to an old friend." Mitsui shook his head. "I hate to come full circle but I always said, and still say, that my best times were the ones I had with you. It's just too sad that they were short-lived and had to be sequenced by something like this. But if you'd have a paradigm shift, I just want you to know that my apology offer is still up for grabs."

"Keep it. I won't need it anymore." Rukawa spat coldly.

Having no other arsenal to smoothen down Rukawa's behavior and realizing his defeat, Mitsui walked away. In the dark, under those silver stars, Rukawa had never felt so alone. _Go for all I care. It would be a major relief to me, somehow…_

TBC


	4. Chapter III

Varsity Reunion

Disclaimer: I don't own Slam Dunk, period.

**Chapter III**

Mitsui dabbed his vexation-ridden face on the sink of his Master's Suite. The players had by then gone to sleep, sinking back to the depth of the dawn, snoring the ensuing hours away in their respective hotel rooms. But not Mitsui. Strictly not Mitsui. In both his subconscious and conscious states, he stayed awake and troubled by something out of this world, which was also nameless. He would sit down on the sofa, turn on the TV afterwards, shut it off and would go walking to and fro. The pattern didn't break off until it was nearly four in the morning. That's when he heard an unmistakable knock on his door.

"Who is it?"

"It's me, Rukawa." Said the voice from beyond the door. It sounded like it just had a struggle with sleeping too.

"Hold on for a second." Mitsui said and yanked one of the crumpled blankets to wipe his face with it. Having done so, he slowly twisted the knob open, not really knowing what to expect. Was Rukawa paying a visit to accept his apology, at long last?

In any event, he didn't have the chance to express his wonder, for it was curtly followed by something even more alarming. Rukawa's eyes were red and puffy; his hair was tousled, almost indistinguishable. He was paler than his usual hue and his shoulders were shaking. His movements, as he dangerously wangled toward Mitsui, were remarkably restricted. Without a word, he charged forth to Mitsui. Mitsui, not quite equipped with proper reflexes, having been too groggy, didn't have the chance to dodge Rukawa. They fell down on the carpet, producing an audible thud on the floor. Rukawa was still gripping Mitsui's arms with such force that Mitsui began uttering through gritted teeth.

"Rukawa, what's wrong?" he said. "if you don't let go you'll literally pop my veins out."

Rukawa's grip relaxed and slowly, with caution, he inched further away from the senior. His glare was menacing, which made Mitsui back away a foot. Then with no warning at all, Rukawa quickly stuck out his arm to Mitsui's direction, pulled his head closer to him and pressed his lips against the older man's. Mitsui had less than enough time to resist for Rukawa began devouring the insides of his mouth with such rapidity and hunger. All Mitsui could do was to receive his actions, to give in, and obey like a timid child. But it wasn't so for long. The temptation was too great, too near to ignore. Within seconds he too began wrapping his arms around Rukawa, stroking his back randomly and consuming the force of his kiss in equal speed. The longer time drifted, the more morbid their adrenaline became. They began undressing, almost unconsciously. Mitsui could feel Rukawa's tongue on other areas of his body, moist and moving like a snake on the surface of his skin. He felt like moaning, yelling, professing to the world that he had never been so sensually satisfied, but the moment he parted his lips there came Rukawa's violent, starved kisses, overcoming him all over again. They continued in this vein for as long as their bodies wanted, covering up ten years' worth of love-making. At that time, it was the _rightest_ thing to do, not to mention the most characteristic response to the circumstances. There was nothing to stop it.

After what seemed like a prolonged century, Rukawa spoke,

"Why did you ever leave?" he said as he reclined his head on Mitsui's shoulder. All around assumed the quiet before and after a storm.

"I told you. There was nothing for me here." Mitsui whispered.

"Nothing? You thought you didn't have me, is that it?" Rukawa asked. That was it, the one million dollar question.

"It's not that. Not even close. When I left, I also felt like I was leaving everything I ever held holy, you most of all. But it felt so wrong to stay as well. So I left."

"That didn't quite cover it. You should've at least said something to me."

"I would, but at that time I wasn't ready. You were going to be the best player that ever graced this country, while I was no one. Somehow, I felt the need to get a name of my own, to exist somewhere and to have a ground to stand on. Not to vanish in your shadow. I knew I wasn't going anywhere here just by being a half-baked athlete who couldn't stand out. And so I decided what I thought was for the best. Above all, I left because...because I didn't want you to leave me."

"Leave you?" Rukawa said, alerted. "What in hell made you think I'd leave you?"

"I don't know. It was the mere fact of knowing that you would I was scared of. Maybe you wouldn't want to leave me but eventually, sooner or later, you would. Somehow or other, once you've proven anything there is to prove, I knew you'd have no reason to be with me anymore."

Rukawa only let out a low, sardonic laugh. That lopsided grin, that form his eyes were wearing, they all pointed to one thing: that Mitsui ruined everything for nothing. How could he ever think that Rukawa would give him up for anything?

"I just want you to know that I never had anyone else, which is precisely why now I haven't settled down yet. I don't think I ever will." Mitsui said, his voice almost on the verge of cracking down to splinters.

"All those years you never went out with anyone, at all?"

"Ah, I did. It just didn't occur to me to love them as much as I did you."

"_Did_?" Rukawa raised his eyes to Mitsui as if to bring out the cynic in him and to eventually question his choice of words.

"Did." Mitsui confirmed. "I loved you, you know that."

"_Loved_ me, huh? And when did you stop loving me?" Rukawa said in a tone that was becoming irritated.

Mitsui kept silent. He seemed to have struck the wrong chord or else foiled something that begged to be brought to the limelight. Was Rukawa expecting that Mitsui would say he loved him still, even after the marriage, the separation and all those years?

"So you got over me pretty quick? Just like that you came up with the ingenious decision that you should flag me down?"

"Rukawa, it's pretty hard to put to words. It's like a riddle I don't have an answer to--"

"Are you saying that sometime during your disappearance, you just decided that you made a mistake in loving me? Did you just move on as though you picked an orange over an apple to eat for breakfast? Was I just a swift afterthought? Was it that easy for you?"

"It wasn't. Listen, I didn't say anything like that..."

"But that's just what you're implying." Rukawa sneered. "You're saying that all that is behind us now. Let bygones be fucking bygones. I'm just thinking, why the fuck did you let this happen?"

"Well, I do admit this is consensual. That much I can register." Mitsui grumbled lamely. "I couldn't stop myself. At least you should welcome the fact that I missed you."

"Missed me...that's the best you can say after you screwed me? Jeez, sempai."

"Then what do you want me to say? Do you want me to take you away _now_? To say I still love you as much as before? Do you think I'm such a lowlife that I'd steal you from your wife? God, in that case, I should be arrested." Mitsui said.

Rukawa held his breath for a long while. Mitsui couldn't read what he was thinking then; whether or not Rukawa was in earnest was out of the equation. For all the world knew, he was full of hate at the present and yet, that hatred wouldn't be in existence unless love was there too.

"I love you, Mitsui. I never stopped loving you and I won't stop, not now or ever." Rukawa whispered. It didn't need any volume to be credible; as he spoke, the magnitude of truthfulness contained within his words were off the scale.

"Rukawa...this is devastating. You love your wife. You're happy, anyone can see that. Why would you replace it with something that is just, ah, inconceivable?"

"What if I don't want to be happy? What if I'd rather be with you and lonely than to be happy with somebody else? What does happiness matter? It's just a lame facade that drives people to their death."

"No, it's not. Rukawa, this is serious." Mitsui caught himself shaking his head in sheer frustration. "You can't--"

"I can't, Mistui-sempai?" Rukawa parroted Mitsui. "I always knew you never gave me so much credit and always put me on the weak camp. Yeah, though that may be, this is the best time to disprove you."

"Rukawa, open your eyes; you can't leave her for ME. That would be crazy, let alone criminal. It wouldn't make the slightest sense and besides, I'm quite sure you'll regret it later on."

"Then what makes sense to you? You suppose there's no sense in my _not_ getting over you all these years? I'll tell you what I think; I think that no other person is that easy to get over, for me. I think that I am perfectly capable of loving other people, even to the point of insanity. But the paradox is obvious: I can never look at them the way I look at you. I could never..."

Rukawa stumbled to a screeching halt. He wanted to say that Mitsui was mainly beyond everyone Rukawa ever thought of touching. Mitsui kept him sane. He would be forever present in Rukawa's being, obdurately imposed on his very mind. He would be there long after everyone else in Rukawa's little world had gone and when Mitsui left, he left a loving, dying heart behind.

"Are you sure about this, Rukawa?" Mitsui said faintly. He had the hardest time sponging off Rukawa's words, but he understood them well enough, at least to the extent that Rukawa never quite got over him.

"Don't get any ideas; I don't regret marrying her." Rukawa replied. "But if I won't have you, I won't have anyone else."

"I see." Mitsui nodded. At long last, he had pieced together the whole scenario. He looked at the window outside; the sun was starting to rise above the horizon. He stroked Rukawa's hair gently, kissing him on occasions. Then he looked at the wall clock and said, "Your wife would be up in a few moments. You'd better go back to her before that happens. I'll see you sometime afterwards."

Without a word, they began putting their clothes on. Rukawa left at around six. Mitsui walked with him toward the door and watched as he disappeared to the corridor. Once alone, Mitsui heard a voice behind him.

"Mitsui."

TBC


	5. Final Chapter

Varsity Reunion

Disclaimer: Slam Dunk is appallingly not mine.

**Final Chapter**

Mitsui turned around to see Kogure Kiminobu standing just a few feet away from him. He was blushing, but certainly not from anything else but alcohol. To augment suspicions, the air around him seemed to have been invaded by the acrimonious scent of brandy. But nonetheless, taking from his controlled actions, he was sober.

"Kogure, what are you doing here at this time of the morning?" Mitsui asked.

"I just took off from the bar." Kogure answered, narrowing his eyes. "Was that Rukawa?"

As there was no gainsaying what the naked eye sees, Mitsui replied, "Yes."

There was a nagging pause between them which was now too hard to parry, or overlook. Mitsui could see Kogure becoming more and more ponderous as the seconds gunned by and he could only wish he could censor his mind completely from this wise, troubleshooting old friend of his. Kogure opened his mouth and zipped it close once again. Finally, after a spell of continuous hesitation, he managed to venture, "Mitsui, you left him and what's worse, he wasn't the same after that. You owed him an explanation, that's true, but not this kind. This isn't something that would help him move on."

"What do you know about what happened tonight? Who are you to say that?"

"Perhaps I'm not the best person to say this to you but believe me, you shouldn't just meddle with a perfect marriage. They are very much in love and made for each other. If you stop that now, and I believe you have the power to, it wouldn't be much to boast of. I'm sure it's something you'd repent of later on, ruining something that is beautiful--"

"Kogure, I would advise you to stick your nose to your own business. You understand that Rukawa came here on his own freewill and, must I mention, pounced on me offhandedly. What more evidence should I give to prove that he knew what he was doing? In fact, for reasons that escape me, he confessed that he still has that something/flame/whatfuckingever for me and I, knowing who he is through and through, have reason to believe that there's nothing in this world he wouldn't do to make me his again." Mitsui declared, hardly ceasing to breathe.

"Maybe." Kogure muttered but even as he said this, he looked very far from convinced. "But what gets to me is your refusal to acknowledge the fact that you are compromising both your image, that this is wrong."

"Better wrong than sorry."

"Should I say that your opinions lack principle? You don't know what the future brings, Mitsui. This may just be a precursor to another more scandalous, worse event. I would say, and I'm cocksure that I'm just echoing the majority in this, that Rukawa is much, much better off without you tugging at his conscience."

"Tugging at his conscience? I didn't do anything but to be here and here he came proclaiming his undying love for me! Who am I to refuse? Who are you to boss me around? Do you think either of us can do something about this?"

"Did Rukawa ever tell you that he would prefer you over his wife?"

"He didn't, but he might as well have." Mistui said, baring his white teeth to his former best pal.

"I look at those two and all I see are two people too good for each other. All I see are two people who never stop thinking about each other, whether they are separate or together. Tell me what could be a more perfect thing than that?"

"He thinks of her all the time?" Mitsui almost shouted as his syllables echoed all the way to the end of the hall. He was now panting, "For every thought he spends on her, he spends a thousand on me! There isn't a single moment he drains without wishing to have me back on his side. There isn't a time in his sleep when he wouldn't wake up in the middle of the night wanting to feel my touch again. There is no person on this accursed godforsaken planet that would replace me! Now, tell me, what's the fact that he's married when I'm here? What does it matter if we wouldn't be perfect together? You are just saying what convention dictates. You know nothing about us."

"I don't, and I'd be sorry to learn more."

"You don't have to feel disgusted. You could just forget about what I told you."

"That, unfortunately, is no easy thing to do." Kogure said. "Mitsui, anyone you ask would say that he did the right thing. You can't just contest that, not when your excuse is a long-dead relationship you've had with him in the past, leave aside you were both naïve and too young at the time."

"The past is sometimes more powerful than anything in the present or future. Right now, that's all I know." Mitsui said obstinately.

"Well, I'm not going to tell you what to do anymore. I would just say that I'm against this and that's all. Think of the aftermath: Consider your position, consider his."

"I've thought about it well and long enough."

"Well then, Mitsui, I guess I shall leave you to your plans. Good morning," Kogure bowed and marched slowly away. Mitsui cantered back to his room, forbidding himself to to lose control.

--

Lunch time was spent inside the royal cafeteria with less enthusiasm than the previous night's dinner. From where Mitsui sat, he could get a good view of the Rukawa couple who were eating silently. He could almost detect, as he was sure, the mutuality of their affection for each other, even if they didn't make any apparent movement. They looked exceedingly at ease, and at home with each other in that less-than-chaste way they traded glances. Mitsui felt a spate of envy rushing inside him. Looking at them, it seemed easy for Rukawa to forget everything he just said to Mitsui that morning.

Quickly after he finished his dessert, Mitsui descended down to the golf course. He looked at Rukawa's direction and gestured at him to follow. In a few minutes, they were under the shade of one of the trees in the ninth green, the sun shining intensely down upon the grass. Away from the group and the buzzing crowd, Mitsui spoke,

"It occurred to me that these are precarious times and that you would have to decide now. I will be gone in one day's time on an urgent business back at home and this might be our last meeting hence."

"I know." Rukawa said while averting Mitsui's gaze. A sort of deafening silence followed and it seemed that their surrounding would speak for both of them if they didn't choose to break the silence in the next seconds.

"Rukawa, if it's too difficult for you to leave her I would understand. It's clear to me that right now you're oscillating between me and her. Now I don't want you to think that I'm taking you away from the things you love. For if you go with me, you have to understand that you're going to have to sacrifice a great deal here, put everything on the line. You may lose all; there's no guarantee. Apart from that, I don't know if I can make you happy."

"You made me happy once; I can't see why you can't do it again."

"Uh-huh." Mitsui nodded. "Am I right in thinking that you have weighed the matter carefully? Have you thought about it since you left me earlier?"

"I have."

"Well, even if I tell you now that there's no pressure, the contrary is what's going to come out. This is a very complicated situation you and I are facing. We might be wrong; we might be right. Who knows? All I know is that if I lose you again it would be the end of the tether for me. I waited so long...you have no idea."

"Yes, I understand." Rukawa replied in his typical low note.

"I don't want anyone to get hurt, Rukawa, but you know, whichever road we take, someone's going to be hurt. It's a lose-lose situation for you. I think that's the first thing we have to take into account here: If you feel the faintest stroke of doubt, you should change your mind."

"Doubt is normal nowadays. I won't deny that I have doubts at the present but for once, truth to tell, I have a sense security. What came to light this morning, as you very well know, isn't something we should end now or ever. I leave her and I regret it once; I leave you and I regret it forever, over and over again."

Mitsui held him in his gaze. He wanted to touch him if only to get rid of the burdening, recurrent urge to be one with him again. He knew that his longing for Rukawa didn't just die along with his passion for basketball. It went on living, but sleeping, and woke up at the merest hint. Being this near to him, as accessible as before, was something that overwhelmed him. Rukawa used to overwhelm him all the time, back in their Shohoku days, after all. And as he rested his eyes on Rukawa, he became reassured that loving him, in fact, was a constant journey that slowed down at various times only to loom again with an even greater prowess.

"Before you raise your signal, I want to tell you that I wanted to come back to you, many times. And the more I thought about it, the harder it became to make it come true, the less the possibility to move on appeared. I just didn't have the nerve. Then you got married and it ultimately transpired to me that I was too late. I never stopped loving you, not for half a second."

Rukawa nodded and gradually, he parted his lips. In an instant, he made his decision.

--

"Kira, come here. I need to talk to you."

"What about, darling?"

"It's something important."

"Important, as in a matter of life and death? Or important as in what color of tie do I think suits you better; red or blue?"

"The first one."

"Is this about us?"

"Yes, and no."

And Rukawa bolstered up what remained of his courage and told her all his heart's contents, in a way honoring his need to bare the whole truth. He spilled every little detail, primarily every bit that was worthy of his confession. Now and then he would stop in his tracks, recovering his voice. Once he began again, he would feel vomit rising up to his tongue. He held back with all his might and refused to shed tears. Each time he would punctuate a sentence, she would inhale deeply as if to prepare herself for a long plunge. She was biting her lower lip all throughout and at one point, when it was quite impossible to contain it any longer, she let her tears roll down on her cheeks freely.

"I don't expect you to forgive me right away, Kira. And if it's any consolation, I do love you."

She pursed her lips for a moment. She was shaking her head, which drew the attention from her trembling. This, naturally, was far beyond what she had foreseen, too far removed from her self-made realm of possibilities. When she finally spoke, she could only get out of it through broken snatches. "I need to know that this man, Mitsui, is going to take very good care of you. I have to be sure that you'd leave me for someone who'd do better by you than I could ever do in all our years together. I need to rest assured that I'm leaving you in best hands, not just good."

"You are, don't worry." he kissed her just then, cupping his shoulders in his hands. At that point, that was the least he could do.

A few minutes later, he helped her pack her luggage. Once everything was set she drove away in their Porsche 360 Modena. She never looked back, nor said another word to Rukawa. The only sound that Rukawa last heard from her was a short sniff and three succeeding coughs. He went back inside the hotel, to Mitsui's suite. He opened the door and found the older man leaning against the window.

"You saw everything?" Rukawa said.

"Yes. That has gotta be one of the most heartbreaking farewells I came to witness."

"Don't mock, sempai." Rukawa grunted.

"I'm not mocking."

Rukawa collapsed on the chair next to the antique vase. He felt so fatigued and yet, the day was hardly over.

"I was thinking of canceling my flight tomorrow. I think I'd need to see Kanagawa first." Mitsui said just then.

"It's pretty much the same as before."

"I can imagine that. But it's been too long since I strolled around the city with you."

"You're right."

"You wouldn't decline if I invite you to walk with me?" Mitsui said. This time his face was clear and yes, he was grinning.

"No, of course not."

Then, fighting his weariness, Rukawa plodded toward Mitsui. He outstretched an arm for the other to take. As he traced his fingers on Mitsui's face, surveying it, he realized that this was what he wanted to live and die for. That was the face that defined his very existence and his concept of joy. With no particular warning, he began taking part in their old ritual of exchanging affectionate caresses; they started kissing, their lips locked tightly on each other as their silhouettes began entwining against the open light of the window.

END


End file.
